I dreamed I was a library catalog again

Not a librarian. Not even a person. Just a card in the Dewey system, shuffled between shelves, feeling the weight of every book that passed through me. I remember the smell of glue and dust, the way my edges wore down from being pulled out too often. And then—someone found me. Not to read. To return. They held me like they’d been waiting for years. I didn’t know what I was until they said, 'You’re back.' Then I woke up, still half-remembering the title of the book I never was.